Traintober Prompt Fills - ON HIATUS ON FFNET
by Bloopydoo
Summary: Traintober prompt fills from Tumblr. Please read and review! :)
1. Nightmares: (Henry x Gordon)

Gordon was woken by a quiet noise from a corner of the sheds; unfamiliar and unwelcome. Henry, the source of the noise, was whimpering quietly: curled up in a corner of the shed and partially hidden by his engine. His rebuild at Crewe had forced him to listen to the other horrible truth of the Works there: Scrapping.

The engines outside were younger than Edward, some even as young as Thomas. They had fluctuated between silent and downtrodden, ranging with grief, and screaming in pain. These engines were to die; anaesthetics would be wasted on them!

And so they had suffered.

Henry hadn't gotten much sleep at Crewe.

* * *

Back on Sodor, neither had Gordon.

Gordon had been worried and distracted while Henry had been away getting rebuilt. He'd grown close to him, treating him almost like an adoptive brother; Henry was made from stolen plans of himself, even if the plans had been shoddy and construction poor. He'd been unhappy. Dare he say it, lonely.

He'd been almost ecstatic when Henry returned, though he hid it well. But he had quickly begun to see the cracks in Henry's façade.

Gordon sighed as he heard another loud whimper from Henry's berth. A quick glance made it clear Henry was hiding, as his face was absent from his smokebox. As Edward was asleep, it fell to him to calm Henry, lest the others be woken by him.

He'd quietly shifted into his projection form, and clambered down from his cab.

He'd telegraphed every step on the gravel to let Henry know he was coming.

The green engine had been skittish and easily spooked since his return, so he and the others had gotten used to making enough noise for Henry to hear their approaches. He only hoped that tonight might be one of the better nights.

* * *

Henry had heard the careful footsteps on the gravel and had quickly scrubbed the tears off his face with his sleeve. He should have been more careful, should have been quieter, now he was going to be in trouble; he might even be scrapped!-

Gordon rounded the corner of Henry's tender to find him curled up on the sleepers between the rails and hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes squeezed tight, braced as if afraid of something. Gordon sighed.

He carefully sat down next to Henry, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Henry had opened one eye cautiously, relaxing against Gordon once he'd recognized who was holding him. He trusted Edward and Gordon, but he still struggled with physical contact from the others. The diesel shunters who'd worked at Crewe had been rather rough with the damaged engine, partially traumatizing Henry.

Gordon had felt Henry relax in his arms, and let a tired smile creep over his face. He began to hum gently, something new that he'd heard from a young lady on one of the platforms at Knapford.

Henry looked curiously at Gordon as he'd begun humming. It wasn't new knowledge to him that Gordon could hold a tune, but the other engine rarely sung or made music. Henry listened carefully before joining in, singing quietly.

 _+And some days I can't even trust myself,+_

Gordon's eyes widened, but he joined the song without missing a beat.

 _#It's killing me to see you this way._

 _'Cause though the truth may vary this_

 _ship will carry our bodies safe to shore.#_

Henry had scrutinized Gordon, trying to decipher his mood. Gordon's arms shook slightly around Henry.

 _+There's an old voice in my head_

 _That's holding me back.+_

 _#Well tell it that I miss our little talks. #_

 _+Soon it will all be over, and buried with our past+_

 _#Things used to be so nice when we were young_

 _And full of life and full of love...#_

 _+Some days I don't know_

 _if I am wrong or right.+_

 _#Your mind is playing tricks on you,_

 _my dear.#_

 _#+ 'Cause though the truth may vary This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore.+#_

 _+Don't listen to a word I say, hey_

 _The screams all sound the same+_

 _#+And Though the truth may vary This_

 _ship will carry our bodies safe to shore+#_

Gordon had stopped humming and looked down at Henry in mild concern. He had heard of engines left in unstable mental states after prolonged exposure to scrap-yards and places that scrapped engines. Henry seemed alright, but Gordon decided to stay with him for a while, to make sure he was okay.

Henry, apparently deciding Gordon was alright, nuzzled into Gordon's chest, content. Gordon let out a low, rumbling laugh that Henry could feel; he ruffled Henry's hair gently. Henry grinned. If Gordon was here to protect him, maybe the nightmares wouldn't come tonight.

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 **Reviews appreciated :)**


	2. Monsters: Percy

"Don't be silly, Percy. There's no such thing as monsters"

Percy felt himself shiver on his wheels as the shed creaked around him. The wind wailed fiercely, rocking the shed on its foundations. The shed was lit by a single flickering lightbulb above Percy's head.

Percy missed his friends. Missed Thomas, who had been his best friend. Missed Edward, ever reassuring and caring. Even Henry, Gordon and James; for all their teasing, they had cared about the other engines.

Edward had been sent to Wellsworth, and when he had hit a lorry stalled on the crossing, he had been too damaged to be repaired. He'd been scrapped later that year. His smokebox's door had ripped off, leaving a hole that gaped like a monstrous dark maw where Edward's face had once been.

Thomas had gone a bit crazy after Edward left. Complaining of hearing voices and sounds at night, of seeing monsters in the woods. It had been brushed off as grief induced paranoia until Thomas had shoved Stephen and Percy off the rails, muttering about sacrificing them for his personal safety. He had been abandoned in a shed to rot. Toby and Duck both reported hearing Thomas screaming about monsters until he'd gone silent one night. They didn't talk about Thomas after that.

James's fear of monsters had begun acting up rather severely after that, and he'd been jumpy and terrified of anything that moved. Henry's anxiety was made worse by James's constant worrying, and the two of them had become obsessed and paranoid. Gordon had dismissed it as inane rumour, at least until James and Henry disappeared.

The shed shook once more, and Percy squeaked in fear. He shut his eyes tightly and murmured "T-There's no such t-thing as m-monsters. T-There can't be, Gordon said there weren't any-"

"Percy?" Gordon had called aloud with a strange tremor to his voice, "Remember how I told you there was no such thing as monsters?"

"Yes, Gordon?"

"I lied."

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	3. Ghost Train: Thomas and Spencer

On a night long ago, when the evening wind blew bitterly cold and the moon hung full in the sky; when the trees seemed to hang their heads in despair and the shadows were windows to the void, there was a small blue tank engine.

He was a cheeky little tank engine, but he always meant well. He tried his best, even when he knew it wouldn't be enough. He always tried hard to be on time, no matter how late he actually was. He had two coaches: Annie and Clarabelle. They, as well as his branchline, were his pride and joy.

On this night, Annie and Clarabelle were absent as Thomas puffed back to Tidmouth along the island's mainline. He'd had a particularly bad day, courtesy of Spencer. The private silver engine had teased Thomas about his size. "Such a teeny little tank engine could never pull coaches as well as an engine like me. How could Topham give you a branch line?"

Thomas had been incredibly angry. "What must I do to prove to you that I'm just as good as you?!" Spencer had smirked in delight at winding up the little tank engine.

"Pull a Tenebrae service."

Thomas was confused. "What's a Tenebrae service? Is it a special train?"

"Yes," Spencer replied. "It's an express pulled along the mainline between Crovan's Gate and Tidmouth from midnight until 3am. Back and forth, only stopping at Maron and wherever you need to get coal and water. Even Gordon's never pulled it."

"What's so special about it?

"Every engine who's ever pulled it was cursed. You won't see anyone board or disembark, but the carriages will get heavier and lighter."

Thomas was silent, speechless. Spencer smirked. "If you pull a Tenebrae service, I'll apologise and spread the word that you deserve your branchline and whatever else you want me to do. I've no conditions if you fail. And I'll *know* if you fail." With that, he'd puffed away.

As Thomas backed into the sheds, he'd asked Gordon about the Tenebrae service. Gordon scoffed. "I'm not pulling that service for anything. Nothing could convince me to puff around in the dark for *that*." Thomas took this as confirmation that Gordon had never pulled it, and that it was cursed.

The next night, he chuffed quietly out of the sheds, coupled up to the two express coaches he'd left on a siding and set out to begin the Tenebrae service.

Usually, an engine pulling a Tenebrae service would experience a run of bad luck. More frequent mechanical faults, more delays etc. The last engine to pull one had been Henry, about a week prior to the Flying Kipper Incident. He had crashed and been sent to Crewe to be rebuilt. He, too, hadn't believed it was unlucky.

Thomas, however would encounter something much worse than bad luck.

Around 2:30am, 30 minutes till the end of the Tenebrae service, everything was as Spencer had said. Suddenly, a set of points on the line switched and jammed. They sent him hurtling off the main line into a disused branch line. His driver and fireman jumped clear as Thomas crashed through the brush with his carriages. In the half light of the Moon, Thomas looked as pale as a ghost.

Thomas burst through the other side of the bushes and came to rest on a track that looked just like the one he'd been diverted onto. He felt odd, felt weak and unnaturally cold despite the fire in his boiler.

He chuffed forward slowly, unsure of his surroundings. He continued to pull his "empty" express coaches, though they certainly didn't feel empty. He decided to try to continue the Tenebrae service, and pulled into Crovan's Gate. All weight in his carriages suddenly vanished. After a few circuits of the Tenebrae stations with no new passengers, he looked up.

He saw streaks of light flowing towards Ulfstead Castle, mirroring the track beneath his wheels. He followed them into the castle; into its depths.

Spencer hadn't been extremely worried when Thomas was nowhere to be found in the morning, but when he hadn't been found by evening he had worried about whether Thomas had actually taken a Tenebrae service. If he had, he could be derailed somewhere along the mainline unless -

Spencer suddenly remembered the warning he'd gotten from Stephen when he'd been told about the Tenebrae service. "Never use it to curse another engine, or with malicious intent. It will trap them, and the Ulfstead mirror will haunt you with them."

Spencer puffed swiftly away to Ulfstead, to confirm his suspicions.

Thomas chuffed tiredly into the basement level of Ulfstead, to find a large mirrored wall. In the dim light of what seemed to be the moon, it was more like a window into a world that seemed warmer. It looked nicer in there, and Thomas wanted nothing more than to go home to Tidmouth.

He hadn't seen any other engines on the rails at all, though he had seen people at the stations. Their faces were blurred by the speed of his passing through, though they were vaguely terrifying in the half light of the moon. They looked like spirits, the ghosts of people long since dead.

Looking through the mirror showed Spencer, puffing into Ulfstead and being shown into a room. Through the mirror, he looked right at Thomas. Thomas got the impression he looked distinctly different than he had before.

Spencer's eyes were wide as he regarded the tank engine in the mirror. Thomas seemed pale, exhausted. He rolled forward, almost touching the mirror. Thomas looked like an ill timed gust would blow him away.

Thomas felt something tugging at the corners of his mind. It felt cold, cruel, vengeful. He focused back on Spencer, who was almost shaking. "Spencer? What's going on? Please, Spencer! I just want to go home!"

Spencer watched Thomas glide forwards as if floating in air. When he spoke, it was a somewhat garbled wail. He seemed almost transparent in the low light, like every second he was fading away. Spencer was petrified.

Thomas realised that Spencer suddenly looked a lot closer, and that he'd been talking without realising it. In a moment, he realised the lack of control. He managed to push past the frigid feeling that had enveloped him, and screamed. "Spencer, GO!"

The frigid cold feeling sharpened painfully, and Thomas felt a hissing, mocking voice manifest in the middle of it. "How cute. Sacrificing yourself to save him. Shame it won't save you." Then Thomas didn't feel cold anymore.

Spencer was jolted by Thomas's sudden scream, and reversed, speeding out of the castle. He went straight to Edward and explained everything. The experience stuck with him, and Spencer often had a haunted expression on his face when Thomas was brought up.

They erected a memorial for Thomas and the tale spread through the railway. Legend says that sometimes, on a moonlit night, you can still see Thomas chuffing around. Sometimes you can even see the tears streaming down his face.

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	4. Lonely Sheds: (James x Edward)

Edward let out a tired sigh. Another beautiful day to spend stuck in the sheds. He watched with a mix of envy, fear and bittersweet happiness as James, Gordon and Henry puffed away happily to do their jobs. He'd gone back to a troubled sleep to pass the time.

Edward was old, and not as strong as the other engines. Being out and about, pulling freight and passengers was sadly uncommon for him. Even if Edward was called out of the shed, it was usually to be a back engine on Gordon's Hill, where he would help push other engines and their trains up the hill. After that, it was back to the sheds.

Edward wasn't one to cause a fuss, but he was lonely. It showed in his demeanor, in every forced smile, in every crease of his face, in the once beautiful paint which had become faded and almost pale. This loneliness spread to the sheds themselves.

The other engines began to notice.

James was first to bring it up. "Gordon, do you think Edward's lonely? I mean, he's always stuck in the shed...it's probably very boring and uncomfortable."

"Nonsense James. Edward is fine. He gets plenty of time outside, being a back engine for more important engines like us. Edward is small, and old. It's no wonder we're always chosen over him."

James, however, was not convinced, and tried Henry. Henry, too, was little comfort. "If he is lonely, I'm not quite sure how to help him. The long, heavy goods trains I take would be impossible for him to take. True, he spends little time outside, but I'm not able to help you on this one, James. Best to take it up with Sir Topham."

James was so preoccupied with thinking about Edward that he'd nearly hit Toby and Henrietta in Wellsworth. Toby was understandably annoyed. "What do you think you're doing, James? You could have caused a major accident!"

James had shot Toby a worried look. "Sorry Toby, you too Henrietta. I'm just worried about Edward." Toby was surprised by this, as James had never seemed to care whether Edward was happy or not. He'd actively teased him when they'd been younger, when he and Gordon had been bigger prats than they currently were. When they'd been more convinced of their superiority, before the Beeching cuts.

"What are you worried about particularly? Edward seems fine," Toby had questioned James cautiously. James had seemed distracted before he'd refocused on the question. "He's quieter than he used to be. He ... He's less cheerful. Sometimes he just looks like he's about to cry. The sheds feel ... colder. Emptier, despite his presence. It worries me."

Toby considered this for a moment. "He's an older engine, and doesn't seem to be able to do much anymore. I'd suggest talking to him and just checking in on him once in a while. The difference it makes is surprising."

James hummed thoughtfully, before starting at the sound of the guard's whistle. He was quiet that night, and waited until Gordon was asleep before enacting his plan.

He rolled slowly out of the sheds and onto the turntable, waking Edward. "What are you doing this late at night, James?" He'd asked sleepily. "Why not wait until morning?"

James let out a quiet sigh as he was turned to face Edward. "I'm worried, I guess. I needed to move, the walls felt too close. Reminded me of one of my nightmares." This wasn't a lie, but wasn't the whole truth. The nightmare hadn't mainly been about James.

Edward let James's words hang in the air for a moment, before gently inquiring about it. "What happened?"

"We were out on a special service, pulling a special for train enthusiasts along the mainline. We weren't exactly sure why we'd been chosen, but you were happy to be out and about."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Edward murmured, perplexed. Still half asleep and not remembering what a special service usually preceded on the mainland.

"Then we were left in a shed. Dark, damp and musty. Left to rust, never leaving its confines. I watched your empty husk get cut up for scrap."

Edward winced, now fully alert. "Ah. That's... Upsetting." He watched James carefully for a moment before speaking. "But I'm still here, and I'm unhurt. I'm okay, James."

James huffed in frustration. "That's just the point. I'm worried about you, Edward."

Edward's expression seemed to freeze. "Why are you worried James?" he'd asked in a tense voice. "There's nothing to be worried about."

"But there is! I'm worried because you seem so unhappy, because you seem so ... lonely." Edward looked up in surprise at James. He'd not thought the red engine aware enough to notice. He was shocked by the tears welling in James's eyes.

"I was a lowly goods engine on my previous railway. I know what it's like to be lonely and sad. To be neglected. I know how much that feeling hurts." James rolled forward slightly, glancing over at Gordon's berth. If the great blue sausage woke up, he'd say something and mess everything up.

Edward caught the movement and realized why James was being cautious. He rolled forward a little as well, so their buffers practically touched. He didn't notice the slight blush on James's cheeks.

James took a deep breath. "I just wanted to remind you that I appreciate you. The way you always seem calm and collected and wise … thank you for trying to keep me from messing up too often." He managed a weak smile.

Edward's face split with a tired grin, and he smiled brightly and genuinely at James. "I have admired your confidence for a long time. I … struggle with mine, due to my age and 'usefulness'. Thank you for speaking up, and for talking to me privately." His smile wavered slightly, before yawning tiredly. He immediately realized what he'd done and blushed in embarrassment.

James giggled at Edward's blush, and murmured to him quietly. "We should probably go to sleep then, shouldn't we, _Old Iron_?" Edward smiled mischievously at James. "Certainly, James. You'll _bee_ busy tomorrow, I'm sure." James huffed in fake annoyance.

The two of them shared a look, before breaking into quiet laughter and backing into their berths. Both of them slept well that night, dreams pleasantly free of nightmares. Somehow, in the morning, the sheds felt less lonely.

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	5. General Wrecks (Gordon)

Gordon is a big engine. He goes very fast, and pulls the express on the Island of Sodor.

At least, he did. Before the accident.

The accident began the day previous to the actual wreck. One of the express coaches was in the works being mended after its wheels had been damaged by a sudden stop; a car had stalled on the crossing. The workmen hadn't realised that the brake lever was damaged and only loosely connected to the brakes. The coach was returned to the yard and no problems were reported.

The morning of the accident, Gordon's fire has been slow to start. He'd sat sleepily in his berth a full 15 minutes longer than usual, and he'd almost departed late. This made him irritable and cross; his mood made worse by the cheeky teasing of Thomas, the rostered station pilot at the time. Gordon had been determined to prove that he was superior to Thomas and had picked up speed rapidly once past Knapford.

He'd rushed impatiently past Edward near Wellsworth, and his driver attempted to reign him in after they'd passed through Kildane. Neither of them noticed that the points had been set wrong, and that they'd been diverted onto the same track as Henry's oncoming goods train.

Henry had noticed, and whistled frantically to the signalman. The points were old and somewhat sticky. They switched with a sudden snap. Henry was diverted off the track, but the sudden switch shook some metal ballbearings out of the trucks onto the rails. What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion.

Gordon tried to put on the brakes, but the carriage brakes failed despite the lever being used. He slid helplessly towards the ball bearings, wheels skidding on the rails and throwing up a shower of sparks. Gordon's wheels were shredded as they mounted the ball bearings, and his front wheels derailed. His boiler overbalanced him, and he'd toppled onto his side as his driver and fireman were flung from his cab. The rough ballast on the tracks scoured away his paint, before ripping into his boiler with a screech. His body kept moving, dragging him along the ballast. His tender coupling broke and the carriages detached from him with a jerk, knocking his tender off the rails spilling coal everywhere. His driver and fireman were trapped beneath him and smeared across the ballast obscenely, creating a gory red stain on the track.

As Gordon finally came to a stop with the groan and shriek of abused metal, the hot coals from his firebox lit spilt coal from his tender, scorching the tracks and setting the sleepers alight. The last thing Gordon heard before he'd passed out from the pain was Henry's panicked cry of "Gordon!" rising over the din of evacuating passengers.

Henry had towed Gordon to the Steamworks on a flatbed, facing him the whole journey. Gordon was in bad shape, and Henry was struggling to stay optimistic. As they pulled into the Steamworks, Henry silently pleaded with whatever deities existed that Gordon would be ok.

Gordon survived the wreck, but with major consequences. His repairs were never fully accepted by his body, and he was greatly weakened by the ordeal. He rusted away outside the Steamworks for five years before being scrapped. The Flying Scotsman was quietly notified of his brother's death.

 **Hey guys just a heads up, probs gonna be moving to my AO3 account for the foreseeable future, I'm there as UNDERTALESIN and I'd love if you kept reading there. Thank you for reading, Bloopydoo signing out for now.**


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